


Homesick

by Pielotdameron



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Baby Ani misses his mum, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Obi-Wan Kenobi Gets a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan is the best you can’t change my mind, but only lowkey hurt, you can’t convince me Obi-Wan doesn’t wear sweaters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27316420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pielotdameron/pseuds/Pielotdameron
Summary: Anakin can’t sleep in the new strange room. Not without his mum.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 8
Kudos: 113





	Homesick

**Author's Note:**

> I just think they’re really cute 
> 
> This doesn’t really have a plot it’s just fluffier than a poodle

Anakin listened to the sounds of his master quietly pottering about, drawing his blankets closer to his ears.

It was the third night in a row where he’d stared at the ceiling until his brain finally shut off, and tonight absolutely nothing seemed to be sending him to sleep. He’d tried counting banthas, tapping tunes on his bedside table. He’d even tried mimicking the thing his master did when he got stressed, taking long breaths in and counting the beats as he released them.

None of them had made a dent, and he was sat up, pouting like a baby, with his blankets wrapped up practically to his nose. The kettle boiled, practically silent in the strange lull of the night cycle, and Anakin couldn’t help a little smile when his master successfully caught it before it whistled, like he had every night before that.

He knew that really, he wasn’t supposed to leave his bed in the night unless he needed the refresher, like his mom always taught him, but the blank walls looming back at him in the dark were starting to make him anxious.

Careful to keep quiet, despite knowing that Obi-Wan was already awake, he pulled on his fluffy socks, drawing his blankets around him in a crude mimic of his master’s long robes. Content that he wasn’t going to get caught by the chills of the night air in their quarters, he pattered out into the main room.

Sat comfortably on the couch, with a flimsi book propped up near a dim lamp, is Obi-Wan.

His master looks calmer than he’s ever seen him in the daytime: He’s wearing a jumper that looks nice to the touch even from such a distance; a matching pair of fluffy socks on his feet, tucked up beneath him; but what jumps out to Anakin the most are the fingerless gloves on his hands, wrapped around a mug of what he thought might be tea.

“Can I help you Anakin?” despite how soft his master’s voice is, lowered as to not startle him, he still jumps slightly like a naughty baby.

“I... I couldn’t sleep Master Obi-Wan.” It almost feels wrong, admitting a weakness to someone he’d only known for a few weeks, but Obi-Wan was always so warm and welcoming, even when he was hurting too.

“Ah I see. Sleep is an elusive creature at times.” Obi-Wan pats the spot beside him on the couch in understanding after setting down his mug on the little side table. He shuffles over to the offered seat and curls up in the corner of it in a makeshift blanket cocoon. There’s a little smile on Obi-Wan’s face when he glances up again.

“If you want, you can tell me what’s bothering you.” Obi-Wan struggles with talking about feelings, even Anakin knows this, but he’s an excellent listener. When they’d first met, on those days where Obi-Wan was always sad and resigned, the man had sat and listened to him talk about his mother all the way back to Coruscant.

It was an important memory to Anakin.

“I don’t know if...” he huffed in annoyance at himself, unable to find the words for a moment, his tired brain falling behind his mouth.

“Will some hot milk help?” Anakin frowned. He’d never even tried it, but if it was anything like the tea Obi-Wan served him, it was worth a try.

“Okay!’ Obi-Wan looks slightly relieved when he unfurls from his own spot on the couch, padding into the kitchen with a far more relaxed posture than Anakin usually ever saw. He observed silently as Obi-Wan went about pouring the milk into a cup, adding some gold sticky stuff to it before putting it in the little heater. To his surprise, Obi-Wan starts to hum softly under his breath as he waits for the ding, rocking on his heels. It’s a very different image for Anakin, but not one he minds. He finds himself relaxing.

“I don’t know if I have the right words to explain it to you, Master. I just know that I miss my mum. That feels wrong though. The other children don’t seem to miss their parents.” Obi-Wan doesn’t cease the gentle rocking, but does fall silent when he talks, tilting his head. Anakin takes a soft breath.

“Master Obi-Wan is it wrong for me to still want her hugs before bed?” he realises how much he sounds like a baby and closes his mouth, glaring holes into the carpet. A yawn interrupts his glaring and he pouts.

“Although the rule of attachments is heavily enforced at the temple, your life hasn’t always been that way. It’s... understandable that you miss the figure in your life who kept you safe.” Obi-Wan, in a case that’s so rare it might as well be gold, seems a little at a loss for words as he hands over the carefully warmed milk. Anakin takes a sip and feels himself subconsciously soothed by the sweet taste.

“Do you miss somebody Master?” Normally, he wouldn’t dare ask something so forward. But there is just a strange sense, in the night, with this relaxed version of his master, that makes him blurt out the question. His Master seems to genuinely contemplate the answer rather than outright denying him, and Anakin waits patiently.

“I do yes, young one. The bond between a Master and Padawan is not one so easily lost.” He doesn’t even need to say it outright. Anakin can easily put the pieces together.

He shifts closer to Obi-Wan, curling slightly into his side. In return, his Master pulls a warm arm around his shoulder, his fingers rubbing gentle circles against his sleeve.

“I personally believe that attachment is healthy, in controlled environments. You shouldn’t feel guilty for missing the one constant in your life, and neither should you let your fellow padawans make you.” Obi-Wan mumbles the words into his hair, his beard scratching a little in a way that somehow only calms him more.

“Okay Obi-Wan. Can I sleep here?” he’s yawning again, and he doesn’t want to go back to the dark room with the big looming walls. To his relief, Obi-Wan only chuckles softly, removing the nearly empty milk glass from his hands before he dropped it.

“Just this once, alright?” Obi-Wan’s hand is doing something in his hair, running his fingers through the short strands, gently twisting the padawan braid to tighten the loops. Anakin finds himself drifting away, soothed by the steady heartbeat beneath his ear. He feels the need to say something to his master, but can’t really think properly anymore, half asleep.

“Thank you, mum, sleep well.” He’s drifting asleep even as Obi-Wan’s chest shakes under his head with soft, fond laughter.


End file.
